Blood and Silence: The Paladin
by WickedIshtar
Summary: A series of short stories based off a world I created to run my D and D campaign. There is level of violence and sexual reference not suited to more sensitive readers. The tenses are sporatic at times but I am playing with a new writting style...
1. Default Chapter

Silence and Blood  
  
By- WickedIshtar  
  
The rains beat down mercilessly upon the ancient shutters, putting the layer of sealant to the test once more. The skies were a sea of darkness, illuminated into ghastly statues of dark clouds by the horrendous lightning that struck at intervals and was accompanied by deafening thunder. It was just another winter storm to the inhabitants of the northern region. The Dark Keep as the locals called it stood atop its cliff side seat in a manner that seemed more menacing than usual. Many of the older villagers watched the castle in pensive silence, a faint glimmer of hope in some of their eyes. However the glimmers grew dim and some faded out all together as the night drew out and no sign of light came from the castle. As the sun was setting a lone rider had entered the castle, their torch a small flame of defiance against the darkness. A small wisp of hope for the villagers.   
  
Muaserak village was governed by, according to most, a rather sinister figure. The lone rider had been a passing adventurer who heard some of the villagers fears and promised to rid the town of their tyrannical Governor. He was not the first to some to Muaserak and speak words of freedom. Not long before the coming of dawn an unhallowed scream was heard coming from the keep. Mothers gathered their children tightly as they awoke and fathers wrapped their arms about in support while bowing their head in silent prayer. No light was seen coming from the castle. The villagers would know whether or not it had been the adventurer's or their Governor's scream soon enough.   
  
Kringrel had heard many a solemn tail from other travelers about a village ruled by a creature of darkness. The further north he went the more frequent he heard the warnings. His curiosity began to direct his feet as well as his call to right a wrong if it were in his power to do so. His mount was a fine white stallion that had seen him through many a scrape already. Ruthgar, as the horse was called, was none to pleased to be traveling into the north. After many a week spent in travel and question, he finally found the road to Muaserak. He rode through the outer fringes of the town about mid-day. It seemed like a budding village full of prospect. It was large enough to have a decent port and was located very strategically so that it also had good farming and even a route to the mountains for mining. The villagers seemed the regular sort and not much different than any town he'd seen. He found a decent inn and rented a room.   
  
After settling himself away and taking care of Ruthgar he sought about getting some food and drink. The innkeeper was cordial enough and even managed a slight smile when Kringrel tipped him an extra piece of silver. The food turned out fine enough and the ale was unusually sweet. He looked about the rest of the inn which naturally wasn't too busy so early in the day. He tried to make conversation with the keep but found his accent a bit hard to understand so he retired to his room to rest till a time when there would be more people about.  
  
Later in the day, about a good hour, before dusk Kringrel was awoken by the sounds of people in the tavern below. He went back to try his luck once more. At first not many people seemed interesting in talking to the traveler but he eventually found the right kind of person to get some local information from. A few drinks later he found that indeed the village was governed by some kind of demon. The man didn't know what it was as no one knew rightly a name for it other than evil. Kringrel was rightly puzzled by the fact the man claimed the village prospered better under its rule than the previous man's. After gathering a bit more information from the fellow he moved on to try a few others. They were still reluctant to speak but once Kringrel revealed himself to be a Paladin on a quest to rid the world of such evils they hesitantly revealed to him the path to the Keep.   
  
Kringrel repacked his few sacred possessions and set off to the keep by foot. As he approached the keep he took note of how well kept the building and grounds were. Everything was immaculately tended, right down to a the hedges of roses that lined the pathway to the doors. Solemn faced gargoyles manned the corners, while intricate engraving trimmed the edges. There seemed to be at least five tiers to the place from the ground view. He slowed his pace to near a crawl as he got closer to the entrance. He could feel a malignant presence within though was unsure if it felt him. He paused a moment and sent a silent prayer to his god.The sun was setting as he struck up his torch and the sky began to darken with the storm clouds as he disappeared inside the massive doors.  
  
A wry smile crept across her face as she uncurled herself from her lovers body. She enjoyed sleeping with him through the day. She had awoken earlier than him, as usual. Though this time it was the presence of the paladin at the door that roused her to wake before full sunset. She kissed the skeletal frame in the bed beside her and walked to her wardrobe to dress. She looked through the dresses till she found one that would suite her mood. It had been some time since a stranger had dared to violate the keep and never before had there been a man of such faith. She donned her clothing and decided to lay in wait for the man in the first meeting chamber.   
  
She waited and watched through the eyes of the stone as the paladin crept cautiously through the keep. She made sure the minions kept to the shadows and out of sight. The wry smile on her face had grown a bit wider. Her focus was such that she did not feel her lover awaken or even see him when he entered the hall. His sudden touch on her shoulder and the caress of his lips and hers interrupted her watching. He chided her softly for playing such games and bade her let the servants take care of him. She sulked for a moment and he pondered her in debate. He decided that it had been a while since she had been allowed to have some fun so he agreed but only on the condition he was to stay in the shadows nearby in case he turned out to be more of a challenge than he seemed. She kissed him deeply and happily before settling back down into the throne and looked once more for the traveler.   
  
Kringrel had made his way to third floor and was not far from her. She ceased concentrating on seeing him and merely let her sense of smell tell her where he was. Kringrel wandered through the keep very slowly and very carefully. He could feel danger and death in the air that smelt of some faint scent he could not name. He felt like he was being watched the entire time and nearly struck out at the shadows on more than one occasion. The place was kept as well inside as it was out. He had half expected cobwebs, rats, and the like. The floors were swept clean and ornate rugs adorned the center of the walkways. Tapestries of all sort were hung at intervals in the halls and the furnishings he encountered were solid and well filigreed in gold or silver. Had he not been sworn to more sacred vows he would of been tempted to lift a few of the bejeweled items he came across. He made it up the first couple of floors safely and stopped cold at the top of the landing to the third floor. He could feel that he would soon face the master of the keep. He grasped his talisman tightly for a moment then proceeded to follow the course of hallways and chambers till he came upon a set of doors that were oddly carved to create a visage of pain and madness. Figures in black obsidian were strewn in contorted positions as impish creatures tore at their bodies. The victims faces were frozen in agony or twisted into to insane grins while the imps all carried solemnly mocking gestures. Beyond the emotions stirred by the images he knew that his challenge laid behind the doors.   
  
Slowly the doors of the chamber opened. The paladin stood boldly inside the doorway. The woman seated upon the thrown stared at him with a stoic expression on her flawless face. She sat in a sea of red silk. It clung tightly around her abdomen, seemingly conforming her body to the sharp frame of the bodice. Her arms were mostly bare with the exception of a few loops that anchored long veils of the crimson silk to them. From about the waist down all other features were lost as the silk flowed out like a waterfall of blood from the throne and pooled around its edges. Her stark white skin and thin obsidian lips made striking contrast to her gown. Curly locks of flocculate black hair were piled on top of her head. A delicate circlet with a single ruby dangling in the middle of her forehead sparkled softly.   
  
He slowly began to stride into the room and stopped halfway to the throne. She heard the words he was about to speak, "I have come on behalf of the people in the village. They ask me to rid them of the demon who plauges them. Are you the demon being of Muaserak?" The amusement in her emerald eyes sparkled brightly. She could feel his strengths and weaknesses. She reached out with her mind and like a serpent, slithered a tendril of control into his soul. Suddenly he feels himself being pulled to some remote location. A searing pain forces him to close his eyes. When he is able to open them again he finds his surroundings vaguely familiar. After a moment of disorientation he realizes hes back in his childhood village. The may festival is in full swing and hes sitting on a fence apart from the crowd. Nostalgia catches hold of him and he looks longingly to the people as they dance.   
  
He is just a lone adolescent too shy to revel with his peers. He has a nagging feeling that something is amiss and lowers his head to try and focus on the intangible thought that eludes him. Suddenly the ground he is looking at is filled with the hem of a soft blue and white dress and a pair of daintily slippered feet. He looks up into the face of a girl whom he often watches from the stalls he works in. She offers him her hand and reluctantly he takes it as the blush of his cheeks rise and settle. A delicate smile creeps onto her face as they make their way into the square and begin to dance. A small eternity passes by as they move.   
  
A slower type of waltz begins and she moves in closer. He relaxes completely, just a faint nagging at the edges of his mind. He feels her head shift upward and he closes his eyes softly eagerly expecting to feel her lips on his. They caress the flesh of his neck then are gone.. He knows he'll feel them soon.. as the smile begins to form on his face her feels a pain ,unlike any other, in his neck.  
  
The illusion falls into nothingness around him and his mind returns to him. Quickly he struggles to find the source of the pain. The woman has her arms locked around him and is biting down upon his neck, her lips sealed to his flesh. He writhes to free himself from her grasp but then he feels her begin to draw upon his life. He cries out to his god with all his might but his cries fall short of the heavens as he feels something crush his windpipe.  
  
She drains every last drop of life from the paladin. Her lover taps her shoulder and beckons for her to cease. She frowns a moment and drops the husk of flesh and clothing to the floor. He licks the blood from around her lips and kisses her deeply while stroking her face softly. He takes her by her hand and pulls her from the throne. She puts a fingertip to one of her fangs and waits for a drop to form. When it does she flicks it onto the Paladin's corpse and recites a solemn incantation in her mind. Her lover leads her back to their private chambers where they ravage each other in their passions, passing the blood back and forth.   
  
The husk on the chambers floor shifts and changes. The drawn mouth opens impossibly wide as a black mist issues forth. Flesh and body turn to dust as a form becomes vaguely visible in the mist and scarlet eyes open slowly. Kringrel the wraith wails in agony as he feels the links to his gods dominion sever. 


	2. Blood and Silence: Vengance for the Pala...

Blood and Silence  
  
By Wicked Ishtar  
  
The lovers danced in each others arms as they entwined themselves. Her neck offered to him as his shoulder was to her. Both drinking and being filled, both reveling in the frenzy of the blood. As dawn approached they both held out longer and longer till she could not resist the call of slumber and he gently laid her to rest. As her body took on its daily form he laid his head to rest upon her bosoms and let himself succumb to the call of day as well.  
  
Kringrel was near mindless. He knew very little of his existence beyond the over whelming craving to feed off the life force of the living. His incorporeal form wandered back through the halls of the castle. The cobwebs and muck hung heavily upon the stone and splintered furnishings seemed held together by mold. Denizens of rats looked upon him with red schemes in their eyes and wandered between the shadows. In the shadows where creatures of unspeakable disgust. The flesh forever rotting from their bones. His form wandered meaninglessly through the corridors deeper into the keep. He passed by fellow damned creatures without notice.His scarlet eyes forever searching for life.  
  
The storm from the night before had stirred the seas something fierce and the hauls were more bountiful than usual. Many of the villagers were happy with the flourish of productivity and took it as a good sign. A few staunch elders made comments of the Paladins absence. Others exchanged looks that spoke of things only they knew. A small carnival sprang up in the town square and carried on for quite some time. Some warned that the people should not ignore the norm and go back to their houses for sunset. For the most part the warnings were ignored and the sun began to set.  
  
Her soul slinks ever closer to her body from the mountains. She notices the villagers making merry with no signs of stopping. A blink's span of sight, the smiles of the people, stays in her mind as her soul returns to body and her nightly form returns in a kindled surge. She and her lover awaken in time to each other. Both have seen the villagers and both are displeased by their wickedness. With silent looks of knowing they don their clothing. She beckons to the shadows to enshroud her while he summons forth his pact with the spirits and becomes a large crimson wolf. She climbs a top his back and they depart swiftly towards the village.  
  
The bonfire burns high as the ale and spirits are lifted higher. Many of the younger villagers make light of the fact the Paladin has yet to return while the elders have already retired to their homes and closed their shutters tightly.   
  
The loud sounds of festivity are broken by the piercing howl of the large crimson wolf as it enters the village square. The writhing form of shadows slides from its back to stand beside it. Everyone was struck with fear and remained where they were. They know now the folly of their festival and cower to the presence of the Keep's Master. A cloud of black dust flies forth from the shadows into the fires which are instantly changed. The colors shift from red and oranges to blues and whites. What was once a source of heat becomes a source of seeming cold as the heat is drawn into it. Slowly the fires freeze into a spire of ice and frost accents the ground of the square and the surrounding area.   
  
The shadows deftly climb the frozen spire and stands paramount to those below it. At once the shadows fall away like serpents sliding from a tree. As they fall and dissipate any unfortunate being touched by them falls frozen to the ground. She stands in her wicked glory before the people. Her black hair braided into a length that reaches the ground. Her gown clings to her completely and looks almost as if the night sky itself were wrapped around her. She holds her arms out to south and west as her voice rises from her in a haunting tone.   
  
Kringrel is suddenly pulled from his surroundings by some unknown calling. In a blink of ethereal travel he finds himself amidst a sea of that which he has been craving. He does not take notice of the other creatures that have arrived with him. An unhallowed cry from non existent lungs streels forth as he grabs the nearest living being in his incorporeal hands and drains them of their life. He moves from victim to victim, oblivious of anything more than his own desires.  
  
Hordes of undead minions burst up through the stones of the square or appear from the ether. Panic ensues as they begin to sate their starved appetites. Bodies are mangled as the flesh is torn and devoured. No one is left untouched, child and old alike. In everyones mind a single thought is heard. "Behold the price of treachery!" The dying cry out for forgiveness while the wiser who stayed inside bow their heads low and work to shut out the screams of pain and anguish.  
  
Ruthgar like the other animals in the stable can smell and hear the evil. They are calmed slightly by the security of their stalls. That is until a swarm of rats begins to pour from the wood work to bite at the feet of the livestock. The varied panicked and pain filled cries of the animals forms an almost twisted melody when it combines with those of the villagers.   
  
Despite their valiant efforts to trample the rodents many cannot battle the sheer number and end up on their sides as their feet are eaten from the ankle down. In the end only Ruthgar is still standing though bleeding from several small wounds. He is near his last bit of strength when the vermin disperse as quickly as they appeared.  
  
As the melody of screams becomes more set in its chaotic waltz the wolf rises to its hind legs and she walks to it. Taking paw in hand she begins to waltz with it through the carnage. Her laughter is like ice upon the ears of the villagers in their homes. The couple dances around the square as if they were at a ball, splashing through the pools of blood without regard. As the streets became cleared of life and the perverse melody dwindled down to more moaning she climbed a top the wolfs back once more and rode off towards the mountains. The minions disappeared once more to return to the keep. Kringrel continued to pursue the corridors in hopes of finding more life.  
  
The people slowly ventured from their homes to make some semblance of peace in their village. The bodies were so mangles that one mass grave was all that could be done for the bits and pieces. The town magistrate would have to figure out who was dead by going through his records. As they labored to clear the streets and tend to the dying the mountains rang with the howls of wolves. 


End file.
